


roles we play

by KleoHoney



Series: Inspired By [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 18+, Abuse of Power, Alternate Universe, Coercion, Dark fic, F/M, Inspired by Measure for Measure, Marriage, Misogyny, Nuns, Shakespeare, Steve is soft for the reader, Tags to be added, church, dub-con, love/lust at first sight, possessive!Steve, pregnancy (not readers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleoHoney/pseuds/KleoHoney
Summary: You're about to take your vows as a nun when you hear your brother has been sentence to death. You hurry to beg the man in charge for mercy and he finds you very attractive.Inspired by Shakespeare's play, Measure for Measure.
Relationships: Dark!Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Inspired By [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006101
Comments: 18
Kudos: 137





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! A lot of new stuff in the past few days, please make sure to read through the warnings before you proceed!

The past few days had been a whirlwind, each minute passing by faster than the last. Dedicating one’s life to the church was no easy decision but it, to you, it had been an obvious one. Not many women outside the church lived as well as those within. 

As a (somewhat) educated woman, it hadn’t been too difficult to locate an order that suited you. There were many to choose from so, in the end, you’d gone for the one closest to the little place you called home. Not that it mattered too much. Soon you’d live on church ground with the other nuns.

In two days time, you were to take your temporary vows. Vows of chastity, celibacy and obedience. It would all be worth it for a warm bed and steady meals. You’d done your time out on the streets. The church and all its rules were welcome. 

A small price to pay to avoid the brutality of the outside world. 

You fiddled with the modest neckline of your dress, delving beneath the fabric to pull out the small silver cross you always wore. A present from your sisters once you’d completed your training. You thumbed at it, pressing your skin into the edges. It was only a tiny thing but on some days you felt the weight of it would surely break your neck. 

The bible sat propped open on your lap but you hadn’t been reading it for some time. Whenever you were looking to avoid certain tasks, that was how you did it. Found the cosiest corner and curled up with a bible on your lap before allowing yourself to drift off into a mush pleasanter world. 

It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. Sunshine shone through the glass windows and illuminated the stone floor. The benches were hard and uncomfortable but you’d long gotten used to them now. The first time you’d shown a hint of discomfort, a nun had treated you to ten strikes on the palm of your hand. You hadn’t been able to hold a pencil for days.

Just then, there was a commotion at the doors. Several sisters in front of you glanced up in disapproval at the curiosity on your face. You tried to ignore it, focussing on the words of your bible, but they all blurred together. 

Your ears perked up at the sound of your own name. “Miss, miss! A message from your brother; it’s quite urgent!”

This time you ignored the nuns, standing up and spinning so fast that your tunic whirled around your ankles. “My brother, you said?” 

You hadn’t talked to Claudio in months. Not since he found out you were joining the church. He knew it wasn’t out of any religious calling. There had been an argument, a nasty one. He had accused you of throwing your life away all for the sake of a little security. You had insisted that, as a man, he could never understand your reasoning. 

He had stormed out of your home and you hadn’t seen him since.

“Yes,” the boy confirmed, shuddering under the weight of the nun’s stares. “Uh, maybe it would be best if we spoke outside.”

Your heart began to pound harder. If what he had to say couldn’t be spoken in front of your sisters - well, it couldn’t be good news. You followed him outside, trying not to drag your feet. The day suddenly didn’t look as beautiful or promising as it had earlier. 

“Well,” you prompted, “out with it.”

“Your brother has. . .he has been arrested,” the boy said, avoiding your gaze.

“Arrested?” You cried. “Whatever for? False claims, I’m sure.”

You hadn’t seen your brother in a while but you knew he was certainly no criminal. Your head began to spin. How would this look? The sibling of a nun - a criminal. Whether the charges were false or not, he was still imprisoned. 

You were angry. He had jeopardised your own future, its safety and security - and for what?

“There’s a girl,” the boy cringed, “pregnant.”

A disbelieving laugh caught in your throat. Of course. “His?”

“Uh, well, it is his soon-to-be-bride.”

“Bride?” You pick up on the word, setting your hands on your hips. It isn’t a position very fitting for a nun but right now, all you are is a sister to your brother. “Then what is the issue if he is to marry her anyway?”

“The man in charge has declared the baby conceived out of wedlock,” the boy confessed, wringing his hands.

“But -“ you spluttered, “the penalty for that is - “

“Death,” the boy confirmed. 

You sank to your knees. How was the possible? How was this fair? Claudio had never mentioned anything about a bride. Not even anything about a girl he was pursuing. 

You laughed bitterly. The whole reason you had taken this path was so you would be looked after. Safe and secure with people you hoped to one day call family. Now your brother was in trouble and the only one who could do anything about it was you. 

The Church always said that God would take care of everything. He would sort all mistakes, fix all problems, bestow great gifts upon those who were loyal. But now, looking at the sweaty messenger boy, you knew that your brother’s fate was in your hands, not God’s. 

“Wait,” you told him, “I will return.”

The looks the nuns shot you were nothing short of poisonous but you lifted your chin and ignored them. There was no help to be found from them. There was nothing for you here. 

All you had was a tattered old sack, a plain tunic your bible and book that you’d hidden between the wall and your bed. Education was necessary to become a nun but apparently not necessary after. You left the bible on the lumpy straw-filled mattress and stuffed the rest in your sack. 

The boy was still waiting for you outside. “We have to hurry.”

“How long until the execution?”  
“A day,” the boy said. “Are you coming with me?”

The cross around your neck seemed to burn, so you unclasped it and left it in the grass. That was not what you needed right now. 

The Church was meant to help good people. Claudio was a good man but you knew they wouldn’t help. They were of no use to him and, maybe, no use to you. Maybe this entire time you’d been trying to fool yourself into thinking this was the only way to be happy. 

Now you knew you’d settle for Claudio being alive and well.

“I am,” you answered, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. “Now, take me straight to the man in charge.”  
“Yes, miss.”

🌹

The walk from the nunnery to town was not a long one. An hour at most. You chatted amiably with the boy, searching for any kind of distraction. Eventually you asked him how he knew your brother.

“He let me live with him not so long ago,” he explained, munching on a soft apple. “Helped me out. I work for him now, at the bar.”

The bar. You knew all about that. 

Claudio had even offered you a job there but the thought of wandering hands and leering smiles had been enough to turn you green with the thought. 

“You need him,” you nodded, understanding.

The boy flushed. “Not just that. He’s a good man. Good men don’t deserve this.”

“We agree, then,” you sighed. “I just don’t understand. How could something like this happen?”

The boy tossed his apple core over his shoulder, dusting his hands before wiping them on his jeans. “It’s very strict. The town, I mean.”

You frowned. “The Duke is not strict.” As far as you knew, the Duke was understanding and kind. The kind of rare person who could be liked whilst still upholding the law. You’d never met anyone like him.

“No, but Rogers is,” the boy frowned. “The Duke left him in charge. He has gone to visit family - left not a week ago. Won’t be back for a while.”

“Rogers,” you tested the name on your tongue and immediately decided you didn’t like it. A disagreeable name for a disagreeable man. Perhaps you could come to some kind of arrangement. You could get your brother released for a sum of money, maybe. Not that you had any. You would have to get a job.

You travelled in companionable silence for a while. The weather was still pleasant, despite the storm raging inside. A million solutions with no promise of what would work. It was frightening, not knowing what was to come. You hadn’t felt that way since before you started your training.

It had been boring, yes. But it had also been predictable. You knew that you would wake up at five o’clock every morning and feed the chickens before going to pray and then breakfast. You knew that you would have several lessons before lunchtime and an afternoon prayer session. Dull, yes, but you knew them. They were familiar.

This was not. 

“Tell me,” you mused, “is my brother in love with this girl?”

“Oh, yes,” the boy said solemnly, “very much so. He might deny it but we call all see it on his face and in his action.”

At that, you smiled. Your brother, in love. You hadn’t thought is possible. Claudio had been a wild child and an even wilder young man. Hard for even a parent to love at times, God rest their souls. Claudio had been the kind of reckless that only a man could afford to me. There had been times when you’d hoped he might one day get his comeuppance. 

Now, here he was, brought to his knees by a girl. A man in love.  
“What is her name?” You asked.

“Juliet,” he answered. “Very beautiful. Your brother is lucky, if you don’t mind me saying.”

You laughed. “I don’t. Though I do believe my brother would have been lucky to even have the most unseemly of females lust after him.”

The boy barked a laugh, seemingly startled with himself. “You have an amusing sense of humour for a nun.” He looked as if he’d like to take the words back almost as soon as he’d spoken them.

You didn’t answer for a while. The boy had said nothing you didn’t alright know. It seemed as if you’d been fooling yourself for quite sometime. You wondered if your brother would ever forgive you for the harsh words you’d spoken last time you’d seen him. 

Hopefully saving his life wold be enough to earn his forgiveness. 

“I’m not a nun yet,” you said, both as a reminder to yourself and the boy. “What is your name?”

“Peter, miss.”

You gave him your own in return. “No need for formalities. Not if you would come so far just to save my brother.”

In the distance, you could just make out the edges of the town. It felt odd, the way that it looked the same despite so much having changed. You shared a look with Peter. 

The pair of you ran the rest of the way.

🌹

The town house was much the same. Only it seemed different, since your brother was now in the jail beneath it. The doors were open and Peter led you in, steering you left and right and left again. You’d never actually been in before, only stared from the outside. Your head was spinning from the mix of smells and sights. Everything looked so expensive. 

Peter didn’t stop until the pair of you came to a closed door. He knocked once, seemingly before he could talk himself out of it. “Remember, miss, hold your tongue.”

“Hold my tongue?” You repeated, mildly insulted.

“Rogers is not one for chatter nor argumentative women,” Peter explained in a hushed tone. “I haven’t seen him fight - but that’s not to say he’s not a violent man.”

Peter’s rushed description of Rogers left you light headed. You were just a woman; how could you go up against a man of his position? How could you go up against a man at all?

Then the door creaked open and you knew that, even if you couldn’t, you would have to try anyway. For Claudio.

Peter nodded to the servant who had opened the door, but he was busy looking at you. Dark skin and even darker eyes. You recognised your childhood friend in the face of this man. Sam’s eyes widened, taking in your dress, but you avoided his gaze. Judgement was the last thing you needed.

There was another man in the room. He stood in front of a window, broad back to the rest of the room. He either trusted Sam to defend him from any trouble or had faith in himself. You knew which one you would prefer.

“I suppose this is the sister I have heard so much about,” the man spoke. “Oh, is it Sister or sister?” He laughed but the sound lacked humour, echoing around the room and shaking you to your soul.

You held your head high, trying to ignore the way your bottom lip was wobbling. “Rogers, I am here to talk about my brother.”

“What of him?” He snapped. He still did not turn from the window.

You swallowed, wringing your hands. “I believe his is wrongly imprisoned.”

Silence. Then, “You dare question me?”

“Yes.”

Rogers turned so suddenly that you almost feel back. Blinked. For a man who reeked of such violence, he was beautiful. Lashes that framed blue eyes and dusted cheeks, full mouth and an even fuller beard. Rogers looked as if he might’ve been one of the angels the nuns often spoke of. 

Confusion flicked across his face, anger long forgotten. His hands sank to his sides. “You - you are his sister?”

“Yes,” you managed, eyes flickering to Peter. “Claudio is my brother.”

“He didn’t tell me. . .” he trailed off. 

You wanted to prompt him - what? What didn’t Claudio tell him? But then he was walking forward, coming closer until he stood only an arm’s length away. Peter swallowed audibly and you saw him sway on his feet. Rogers had only been here for a week - what had he done in that time to warrant such fear? How many more men had been unjustly executed?

“Leave,” he suddenly barked. Peter stumbled back, leaving before you could beg him not to. Sam followed after. Now alone, you were in awe of this frightening man. “Please, sit.”

You did as he asked, perching on the edge of a chair. Rogers came to sit in front of you, leaning forward more than what was appropriate. Suddenly you wished you had taken some kind of vow, something that had promised you to be chaste. Anything to shelter you from the hungry gaze this man was giving you.

“You believe I have wrongly imprusoned your brother,” he said slowly. There was a moment of silence as he waited for you to reply.

You hurried to speak. “Yes. The girl - Juliet - she is pregnant but what does it matter if he is to marry her anyway? If he loves her?”

“Then I suppose you want me to free him,” Rogers said, no sign of the man who had spoke with such aggression earlier. It felt like a trap. One that you would willingly walk into if it meant freedom for your brother.

“I do,” you said firmly. It wouldn’t do to appear frightened. That kind of thing only fuelled men like Rogers.

“Well,” he purred, sinking back into his seat. A smirk played on the edges of his lips and your eyes were drawn to the movement. He grinned. “I believe we can come to an arrangement. Are you willing?”

Willing for what? You wanted to ask. But you didn’t. Instead, you said the only thing that you could.

“I am.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : 18+, dark fic, mostly smut coercion, dub-con, reader is not really religious, hair pulling, fingering, vaginal sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex

It wasn’t uncommon for a man to proposition a woman for sex. There were tales your mother had told you when you were younger, both hers and passed down. Precautionary tales. It was something that you knew happened, and often. 

Still, you hadn’t believed it would ever happen to you.

Swallowing hard, you shifted in your seat. Steve Rogers had no shame, was openly staring at you with a questioning gaze. One that said ‘accept, I dare you’. It made you angry because you knew what he was doing and still - you fell for it. 

“That arrangement would be acceptable,” you answered stiffly. You felt like an imposter now, your old robes stuffed hastily into the bag you’d brought along. Not that you’d intended to wear them for anything other than warmth. 

Steve’s lips curved. A subtle, satisfied smile. “I am glad you think so.”

You hoped that Peter wasn’t listening outside the door. The shame. . .you would never get over it. Then you thought of your brother, his body rotting beneath the dirt, and you summarised that you would, in fact, get over it. 

The imagery prompted you to speak. “You’ll free my brother, then?”

Steve pulled a set of keys from somewhere, the sound of them like music to your ears. “Of course; I am a man of my word. I suppose you’d like to see him?”

“No,” you said.”Not yet.”

“Ah,” Steve nodded. “You fear his reaction when he knows what you’ve done. Is it truly that terrible?” 

His tone was slightly mocking, but anger flared its head again and you took the bait. “Is it truly that terrible to whore myself out to a man I’ve only just met? Why, no! Surely not. Never-mind the fact that I am sworn to the Lord.”

“Sworn to the Lord?” He repeated, admiring the glare of the sun on his keys. “With how quickly you turned your back on your sisters, I am inclined to disagree.”

Your lips curled. “Turned my back on my sisters to help my brother.”

“It is of no matter,” he dismissed, waving his hand as if to clear the air of your biting words. “You are sworn to me now.”

“Until?”

“Until I see fit,” he said flatly. 

He called someone in, and the man from earlier appeared. He did not appear startled when Steve handed him the keys and told him to free your brother. Your eyes darted uneasily around the room. Everything about the situation was unnatural.

Then the man walked from the room and you almost wished you had agreed to see your brother. He would find out, one way or another, and maybe he would take it better if the truth came from your mouth. Then again, you never had been able to stomach his anger. Perhaps it was best to let Steve’s men handle this one.

A shadow darkened your vision and you recoiled when you realised how close Steve had gotten. Your chest tightened uncomfortably. Your nerves were displayed plainly on your face but Steve’s was a carefully black mask. 

His thumb dusted across your cheek and you jumped, letting out a squeak. He only hummed thoughtfully. “You’ll learn to crave my touch, love. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I will find no pleasure in this,” you replied solemnly. Lies.

“I will find it for you,” he said firmly. “Does it truly have to be so awful?”

“Your actions have already insured that it will be,” you spat, standing up and putting the table between the pair of you. It was hard to think when he was looking at you so closely and you could feel the heat of his body. 

“I brought peace and order to this town,” he insisted. “It is a gift but it seems I am the only one able to appreciate it.”

You shook your head but refused to answer. There was no point. It was obvious how much he believed his way of being was the right one. And could you really fault a man for doing what he believed was the right thing? 

🌹

Later in the evening, and you were once again alone with Steve. You’d spent the day locked away in the library, flicking through books but not reading the words. Most were in other languages and you hadn’t been able to decipher them no matter how long you’d tried.

There had been a deep sense of unease inside you all day. The arrangement had been established - so why wasn’t he acting on it? Why must he wait? Was dragging it out another way to punish you? 

You’d stayed in the library until you’d been called for supper. You had been too afraid to leave - too afraid to face the man that you’d so boldly confronted. There was none of that bravery now. 

Flickering candles illuminated the table and its contents. Meats, breads, cheeses. The kind of foods you had never imagined yourself eating. Wine, too. Despite the company, your mouth watered. 

“Are you hungry, love?” Steve asked. He was piling his own plate with cuts of meat and some kind of vegetable. “I want you to eat. Taste the delicacies that I have had prepared for you."

“I wasn’t aware that whores received such favourable treatment,” you casually said, taking a generous sip from your wine. “Why, if I’d have known. . .”

You’d been hoping to shock him with your crass language. Instead, he laughed. Your blood heated quickly, infuriated. You could not even begin to understand the man sitting in front of you and you were beginning to think you didn’t want to.

The pair of you ate in silence for a while longer, Steve occasionally making suggestions which you steadfastly ignored. If you were hoping to deter him, you had failed miserably. Every attempt at deflection or evasion seemed to further encourage him. 

The silence of the dining room was unnerving, made worse by the streams of servants constantly moving through to top up plates and cups. It felt as if he was your husband and you his wife. Like this was your home instead of a subtly disguised prison.

The candle light danced along the walls, illuminating the luxury of it all. The chairs were cushioned, the walls decorated with strange and unusual art. Vases and miniature sculptures were dotted along shelves. The church encouraged people to live a modest life (as if they could afford to do anything else) but you were very much in awe of the grandeur of it all.

Eventually, when the food was gone and the wine was depleted, Steve rose from his seat. He strode round the table and you shrank back into your chair, half expecting him to ravish you right there. Instead, he pulled out the chair closest to you and leaned back, studying you.

“What are you doing?” You demanded sharply. 

“Am I not allowed to admire beautiful women?” He purred, leaning his chin into one hand. “Perhaps you are unused to hearing such things, given your time at the church.”

You were not so innocent. You’d kissed a boy before, knew what they had inside their trousers and how it fit with what you had in yours. Never, though, had you expected to actually have to use that information. 

Steve’s hand came forward to caress your cheek, as it had earlier. You slapped it away, cowering back in your chair and regretting your decision with everything you had. How could you have been so naive as to stride into his home, demand the freedom of your brother and think it would come without a price? Leaving the church had been a mistake; it was the only place where women like you could survive.

“You should be kind to me, love,” he murmured. “After all, I have freed you.”

“Freed me?”

He smiled. “From the life of a woman indebted to the church. What a dull, repetitive existence.”

Your nostrils flared. It would have been dull, but it would have been predictable. Exciting lives were not the same to women as they were to men. That was something you had accepted a long time ago.

“It will be good,” he promised, suddenly rising. “Now, come with me.”

And you did. You followed him as he left the hall and slipped into the corridors, up winding stairs and past the portraits of those in charge before him. You felt the weight of their gazes on you. Judgement clouded their painted eyes and you accepted it numbly. 

Steve led you to his bedroom, not even bothering to hide you from the curious gazes of multiple servants. Your mind was deceptively calm and you had to keep it that way else descend into inescapable panic. 

He ushered you inside and shut the door with a quiet ‘snick’. At once, you whirled. “What am I to do? After this?”

“You’re thinking of the future?” He asked curiously.

“A woman must always think of her future,” you snapped, though you felt quite hypocritical. Your future had been the last thing you had been thinking of when you had agreed to this madness. 

“Well,” he spoke slowly, stepping toward you. “I suppose we can come to some kind of arrangement.” 

Indignation curled in your gut but then Steve was kissing you, stealing the breath from your lungs and the thoughts from your brain. Clumsily your hands flared by your sides, before finding a home on Steve’s biceps. Your fingers curled around the muscle, sank in with the intention to hurt. Steve only hummed into your mouth.

“You think too much,” he murmured, parting from you briefly. “Allow me to do it for you.”

A squeak escaped you when Steve pressed one hand against your sternum and pushed you back, pinning you to his bed. The sheets fluffed up around you, your body imprinted on them. Absently, you thought of how soft they were. 

Steve stole another kiss from you before setting about working his way through your clothing. Each expertly tied lace was undone neatly, each button torn off in impatience. There was a pressing urge to cover yourself but you weren’t sure where to even start. Steve was pulling your clothing from you and baring you to his hungry eyes. 

Panic flared and you thrashed violently, aiming a hand at Steve’s pink cheek. He caught it and pressed a hot kiss to your palm, never moving his eyes from your face. “It does not have to be like this, love.” 

Your breasts heaved with each breath and you were impressed with Steve’s ability to keep his eyes trained on your face. You almost wanted him to look - wanted him to get on with it and pay as little attention to your own pleasure as possible. You didn’t want it to be good because then you’d want it.

Again and again and again.

There was a gleam in his eyes, and you identify it as greed. It became clear; once he had you tonight, he would not be giving you back. There would be no ‘end’.

“What will it be like?” Your voice was breathless. The question was born out of desperate curiosity and the need to postpone it, to gain your bearings. You hadn’t been steady since you’d walked into that house.

“Like this,” he cooed, lowering his head to engulf your nipple in the heat of his mouth.

Your hand instantly flew to his head, grabbing a fistful of his golden hair. He didn’t stop you. When you went to pull your hand away, he placed his one top of it and held it there. In response you gave a light tug and he moaned, the vibrations sending heat straight down to your most intimate area.

It wasn’t what you had thought. You’d only known the most basic of knowledge; it was all you had needed. Steve was exposing you to so much more and you knew there would be no coming back.

Your thighs quivered beneath Steve’s hands as he parted them, finally pulling away from your breast. He thumbed at the peak of your other breasts, delighting in the way you shivered and tried to clench your thighs together. It felt primal. It was primal. You were relying on your instincts only and Steve’s promise to make it good. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, swiping a finger through the dampness on your upper thighs. “I am the first man to ever see you like this.”

He looked up at you and you froze, startled by the intensity in his gaze. “I will be the last.”

Steve made a strangled noise when he allowed himself to touch the sensitive flesh of your cunt. The word rose unbidden in your mind and you cried out, startled by the feelings it invoked and the way Steve was thumbing at that nub of flesh. He inhaled deeply, greedy for the scent of you, knowing it would sink into the sheets.

When he breached you with a finger, your cunt clenched tight around it. Other women had told you there would be pain, a slight discomfort in the least. Not for you, though. All you felt was the urge to beg for more. So you did.

“Please,” you said shakily. “I need more.”

Steve languidly fucked you with his finger, only teasing you with the barest hint of a second. His eyes traveled lazily between your face and your cunt. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.”

With a slight twist of his wrist, Steve filled you with a second and third finger. A twinge of pain licked up your spine but vanished entirely when Steve began to fuck you with them. It felt good, just like how he’d promised.

Still, it wasn’t enough. 

“More,” you babbled, grabbing blindly for the strings of his trousers. Your fingers brushed the hard line of his arousal and you stuttered, gagging for something you hadn’t even had before. 

You’d heard of people addicted to being thrilled before, or addicted to plants and alcohol. It had been easy to avoid those particular sins, but now you knew you had found your addiction and there would be no denying it. 

You had no church now, no family other than your brother. In this moment, all you had was Steve and his fingers and his cock. Maybe that was why it was so easy to give all of yourself to him. 

He deftly undid the tie of his trousers and you gasped when his cock sprang from their confines, slapping against his belly and brushing against the fine trail of hair there. It was intimidating; flushed pink and deep red at the tip. You squeezed the sheets and clenched around Steve’s fingers, moaning when you saw it throb in reaction. Steve was not unaffected. 

There was a wet sound as Steve pulled his fingers from you, leaving wet fingerprints on your thighs as he pushed them higher and urged you to wrap your own hands around them. The position left you exposed and was certainly not like the basic drawings you’d been shown during your education. 

Your head fell back into the sheets as Steve slid his cock through your wetness, pumping it a few times to ensure he was fully coated. Then, he drove home in one full thrust. 

There was a pinching pain inside as Steve took your virginity but it was nothing compared to the euphoria of feeling full. It was a feeling you knew you would always seek after this. Steve rolled his hips, watching the expression on your face.

He liked whatever he saw. Your stomach tightened as he drew back before slamming in, setting a punishing pace that was utterly delicious. Strands of his hair, damp with sweat, were curling around his face. The blue of his eyes seemed to glow as he openly stared at the place you were connected. 

“Does it feel good, love?” He murmured darkly. “I told you it would.”

You babbled nonsense in response, unable to give him a reply. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass would ring in your ears for days to come. The wet suction of your cunt grabbed at the length of his cock, desperate to keep him in, desperate for him to fill you in the way God had intended.

No, you weren’t religious. Not really. You had suffered too much to believe in being saved. But looking as Steve, hair a golden halo around his head, you wondered if you could be. 

The sight of you spread open around him was enough to have your eyes rolling into the back of your head. It was that feeling of doing something forbidden. A poison apple that tasted utterly delicious. 

Steve’s thumb stroked at that bundle of nerves again and you quivered around his cock, deciding into a fast and violent climax. Your cunt contracted around him, urging him into completion alongside you. Steve bit off a deep groan, instead biting at the space where your shoulder met your neck. It drew out your orgasm, kept you spasming around him for ten, twenty seconds. 

Eventually, he pulled away. Wiped strands of hair from your eyes and looked down at you. “I’ll have you like this forever. I won’t be denied. Do you understand?”

“It was part of the arrangement, was it not?” You whispered, throat sore from voicing your pleasure. Shame licked at the edges of your mind but you pushed it away. 

How could something that felt so good be a sin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
